Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike (31 page)

“And the allied fleets?”

“Crakista and Elysium forces are all at their
staging points already, though we are expecting some more ships for each
force.  We have assigned them to task groups with their own commanders, as per
their requests, and your orders.  In two cases this has resulted in groups that
are mostly either Crakista or Brakakak, in order to give their high admirals a
command commensurate with their rank.”

“Good,” said Sean, reaching for his glass of
soda.  “I want their commanders to feel that we trust them.  And what about the
Margravi and Klashak?”

“We have passed some of their task forces
through to the
Donut
, while they upgrade their systems to our
standards.”  The Admiral looked away for a moment, chewing her lip in thought. 
“Are you sure you want them included in this operation.  My staff feels they
would be better suited to continued screening of Laharan and Fenri space, and
letting us withdraw more of our own units for operations against the Cacas.”

“No.  I want this to be an alliance operation. 
I want the Cacas to realize that they are not just fighting us, but most of the
governments of this region.  I want them faced with a united front.  So no,
they stay.”

“Yes, sir.  You’re in charge.”

Yes, I am.  And I will be blamed if our allies
let us down in combat
.

“Anything else?” he asked, looking at a holo of
one of the new superheavy battleships.  “I hope we have three more of these
ready to go.”

“Those three will be ready for combat at the
end of this week,” acknowledged McCullom.  “I would like more time for
shakedown, but I understand the need.  In another month I can get you three
more, and then we have to wait for another four months for more to come off the
lines.  By then we will be into full production, a hundred ships a year.”

A hundred of the most powerful units either
side has deployed so far in this war
, thought the Emperor, wondering if that would
still be enough. 
But it will have to be, while we keep commissioning
battleships and superbattleships.

“And we have word about the pirate operations
going on in Sector VII,” said McCullom, her expression grim.  “It seems they
are capturing humans, as well as our cargo, and selling them to the Vergasa.”

“Shit.  Now those assholes.”  Vergasa was a
smaller star nation, not more than fifty inhabited systems, sitting a hundred
light years outside of human space toward spinward.  The large, furry creatures
did not allow anyone else in their territory, and were said to use slaves for
much of their grunt work, much like the Fenri.  “What can we do to get them
back?”

“The only thing I can think of is an
expeditionary force.  Invade, take out their military, and take our people
back.”

“And get us into another war?” said Sean,
grimacing.  “As if we don’t have enough to handle already.  Even if they are a
small fry.”

“I think the only other choice would be to see
if the Ministry of State can buy them back,” said McCullom.  “Then, if we win
this war we’re already in, we can go in there and take back what we couldn’t
purchase.”

“I really hate the idea of letting our people
rot in slavery,” said Sean, closing his eyes and trying to come up with
something he could do.  “Let’s do this.  I want our ships in sectors VII, VIII
and I to keep on those pirates.  But I also want them interdicting any traffic
across their sectors heading out into unincorporated space.  They are to search
any ships they come across, even those with Imperial registry.  And any with
stolen goods and people aboard are to be impounded.”

“That might cause some trouble with our
allies,” said McCullom.  “If any of the ships happen to carry their registry.”

“The Ministry of State will deal with that. 
I’ll personally apologize to anyone we inconvenience.  But I want these orders
followed, to the letter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In fact, I have a meeting with the Cabinet in
one hour.  So anything else of vital importance before I leave?”

“No, your Majesty,” said the CNO.  “And may I
ask how the Empress is doing?”

“She’s doing fine, if still a little shook up,”
he said, still troubled by what had happened on their wedding day.  “The arm
has almost healed completely.”

“Will she still need the position at the
Medical Center?” asked McCullom, raising an eyebrow.

“No.  I think not,” said Sean, shaking his
head.  “She has another job now.  Full time, unless I’m mistaken.”

“Very good,” said McCullom with a smile.  “Then
we will not hold that position open for her.”

She’s not doing anything but be the Empress
, thought Sean, walking
from the room.  Which was OK with him, since he trusted security better when
the bystanders could be controlled, unlike a hospital, even a military one.

The underground tram took him to the office
building a block down from Parliament.  The megascraper had one of his public
offices, and was near to most of the government office buildings that housed
the headquarters of the major departments.  Offices were also assigned to the
ministers in the building, as well as to key subordinates.  Underneath resided
the massive databanks of the civil government, fed by the processing offices in
the building.

Sean moved from the basement to one of the
cabinet meeting rooms on the upper floors, accompanied by his augmented
security detail.  He was getting used to the security, much as his father and
mother must have.  And, after what had just happened, at the wedding, and at
the
Donut
, he was happy to have it.

The Ministers were already waiting for him when
he walked in the room, only a pair of his security agents coming through the
doors with him.   There were already guards in the room, as well as the
complete security details of everyone involved in the meeting on the floor.

The Ministers all came to their feet as he
entered.  Sean stopped for a moment, looking out the huge steelglass window
that overlooked the city, giving a view of the river all the way down to the
coast, and all the huge buildings built along the banks.  Fifty kilometers out
in the bay was the long shape of Peal Island, home to the Naval Academy that he
had graduated from.  It was almost lost in the mists of distance, but was still
as familiar to his vision as the day he had walked to the landing field as a
newly minted ensign. 
Things were so much simpler back then
, he thought
with a slight smile on his face. 
The whole Universe was in front of me, and
I had the hopes of every ensign as they walked from those halls.

“Please be seated, ladies and gentle beings,”
he said, nodding to the gathered Ministers.  All of the high rankers in the
room took a seat, Lord T’lisha lowering his bulk onto the special bench built
for his species.

“Samantha will not be joining us today,” he
told the gathered Ministers.  “She will be spending more time with the Empress,
preparing her for her duties.  She will resume her duties as Regent when I
return to the fleet.”

The heads nodded at the table.  No one
questioned his leading the fleet on the next op.  He had already explained to
them about his dream, and by now everyone in this room was a true believer in
his gift.

“Even though Samantha has done a fine job as my
Regent, I am still the Emperor, and all decisions must originate with me.” 
And
it frees Samantha of any blame of anything goes wrong, the least I can do for
her.
  “So, let’s get it clear right now.  If there is anything I need to
know, bring it out now, so I can sign the paperwork.”

“I have received a message from the Admiralty,”
said Lord Garis, after looking around the table to see if anyone had needed to
speak first.  “Are you sure you want to stop the shipping of our allies?  They
might see this as an insult.”

“I want to interdict any possible slave trade
of our citizens,” said Sean in a forceful tone.  “That is why I want your
Ministry to make it clear to them that we are not trying to insult them, but
only to protect the citizens in our space.  They all have to know that not every
one of their freighter skippers is a saint.”

“The Crakista might just be,” said Garis with a
smile.  “I have never met a harder bargaining people, but honest to a fault.”

“But not all of their skippers are Crakista,”
said Sean, pointing a finger at the Minister.  “Even their leadership must
realize that.  They allow their minority species to conduct themselves within
the laws of their Empire, and they must know that not every sentient in the
Empire is a, saint, did you say.  I will talk with their leadership over
wormhole com, if necessary, but I will not allow their ships free passage
without checking them out.”

“Understood, your Majesty.  I just wanted you
to be aware of the difficulties we might encounter.”

And that’s why you have the damned job
, thought Sean, looking
at the older man. 
Though I have to admit that you’re damned good at it.

“Lord Halbrook,” said Sean, looking over at
another middle aged human, one who had served his father for many years.  “What
can you report on the income front?  Is our income matching our expenses?”

“Of course not, your Majesty,” said the man
with a frown.  “With a war of this size and intensity, there is no way that we
can pay for everything.  We still haven’t paid off all the bonds on the
Donut
,
and now we are tasked with finding the funds to pay for an unprecedented
military expansion.”

“So we will be running in the red for a while?”

“Maybe more than a while,” said the Minister. 
He looked over at Lord H’rressitor, the Gryphon Minister of Commerce and
Industry.  “Despite the Minister’s efforts at increasing our industrial
capacity, and the goal of reaching full employment within the next five years,
we can only raise so much in taxes.  We are in danger of going bankrupt.”

“And if we don’t win the war, going bankrupt
will be the least of our worries,” said the Emperor.  “Raise corporate income
taxes if you must.”

“They’re already at fifty percent,” said
Halbrook, grimacing.  “The owners and shareholders are going to raise hell.”

“They’ll raise more hell if we lose this thing. 
I remember reading one time that on old Earth, taxes reached as high as ninety
percent during wartime.  And the industrialists still made a fortune.  They’ll
pay more taxes and love it, as the wealth comes rolling into their coffers.  So
raise the corporate taxes to seventy-five percent.  And sell more bonds to the
workers.  With more people working, they can afford to give up some of that
income.  And see about investing some more of my assets into production.  The
Emperor’s largess is doing no good sitting around in banks, or in untapped
resources.”

“And do you want to pay seventy-five percent
tax as well, my Lord?” asked Halbrook.

“No.  I’ll pay one hundred percent tax.  I
don’t need any more money, and the Empire sure doesn’t need for its leader to become
even wealthier.  So take all my profits, and plow them back into war
production.”

“And of course publicize that you are doing
that,” said Halbrook, his grimace turning into a smile.  “I’m sure that will
play well with the public.”

“I really don’t care if it plays well with the
public, Lord Halbrook,” growled Sean.  “I only care about how it aids the war
effort.  Now, if it can shame some other nobles to do the same, great.  If not,
then we have to come up with another way to tap their wealth.  After all,
having great holdings doesn’t do them any good either, if they are vaporized,
or sitting in the belly of some Caca.

“OK.  Anything else.  Lord H’rressitor.  You
look like you are about to be ill.  What’s wrong?”

“I’m not even sure if I should mention this,
your Majesty,” said the big male of a species that was probably closer related
to dinosauroids than avians, but due to the beak and feathers was put in that
classification by most people outside their race.

“Mention it, Lord H’rressitor.  If it doesn’t
reach my ears, there is really nothing I can do about it.”

“It concerns a minor bill, your Majesty.  One
of no real importance, except to my people.  A small spending bill to allow
conversion of ships already being built in our shipyards to be crewed by my
people.”

“I was assured by Baron von Hausser that the
bill would pass when it got to his House,” said Sean, a look of confusion on
his face.  “And the funding has already passed the Commons.”

“But the bill never made it out of the Lords
Military Appropriations Committee,” said the being in a choked voice.  “And if
it never passes the committee, it can never be voted upon.”

And the idiots on that committee insult one of
the most loyal species of the Empire
, he thought, looking at the distressed
Minister.  His people had been considered loyal citizens for the last seven
hundred years, after a hundred years of proving their loyalty.  They had proven
themselves in war and peace, offered freedom from their former oppressors and a
future with the liberators.  Not all species joined the Empire in such
circumstances.  Some were the conquered, the past oppressors, who had resented
the humans.  After several generations of assimilation into the Empire, while
retaining the roots of their own cultures, even they became enthusiastic
partners.  But not all humans thought they deserve a fair shake.